To the two guys in the truck behind me on the road from Vegas: You made my weekend.

Rocking outlike only two thirty-something
white boys on their way home from a good time in Vegas could do.We sat for 3 hours in the middle of nowhere, baking in the scorching Mojave sun. Rubbing my tired eyes, I struggled to stay awake.

I spotted you in my rearview mirror rocking out like only two thirty-something white boys on their way home from a good time in Vegas could do. I responded with some headbanging of my own. You broke out some Haddaway "What is Love" goodness. Viva Night at the Roxbury! I saw your thrashing and raised you two steering wheel drumming sets and an 80's style sprinkler to Jet's "I Believe in a Thing Called Love."

It was only the beginning.

Our 4-wheeled dance-off had me laughing for at least a good 2 hours; and everyone else around us as well.

*an hour later*
Have we really only gone 20 miles???

I was relieved when we were finally going over 10 miles per hour, but also a little sad because it meant we would have to part.